


Season’s Greetings from Hell

by cinnamon_skull



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Holidays, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Sexual Frustration, UST, boys being dumb, dick grayson/midnighter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9119833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/pseuds/cinnamon_skull
Summary: It wasn’t exactly how Jason had planned to spend Christmas Eve: trapped in a car with his ex-boyfriend in the middle of a blizzard. And he absolutely didn’t intend to attend Christmas dinner at Wayne Manor sitting next to his aforementioned ex. Or kiss him just after midnight on New Year’s Eve.Sometimes, that’s just the way the holiday cookie crumbles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of a three part Christmas fic. Happy ending, of course - I wouldn't do that to you guys. Thanks forever to TK and Kim who always inspires me and give me amazing feedback.

1.

Jason had just finished his second drink of the night, and the golden holiday lights strewn up behind the bar were starting to grow soft and hazy. A banged up jukebox in the corner blasted cliched guitar riffs, loud enough to slow Jason’s restless thoughts.

Christmas Eve, the kick off to Jason’s least favorite week of the year, and he’d planned on downing at least half a whiskey bottle more before leaving. If he were lucky, he’d get drunk enough to sleep through tomorrow and avoid all the awkward text messages and raging disappointment on all sides.

And then Roy had shown up, and everything had gone to hell.

It took Jason a few moments to realize Roy was suddenly at his elbow, one corner of his lips quirked in a lazy grin as he watched Jason finish off the last of his drink. The hideous red and green argyle pullover Roy wore under the scuffed leather of his jacket made him look like the Gotham version of a long-lost Weasley brother. With a knife in his boot, of course.

A plastic Santa in the corner of the bar turned Roy’s hair an unflattering rose gold under the glow of its red suit, and Jason bit back a mean laugh. “Been taking fashion advice from Alfred, I see.”

“Yeah, he does a mean Tim Gunn impression.” Roy slid easily into the vacant stool next to Jason, unwinding a mismatched wool scarf from around his neck. “Jealous?”

The scent of cigarette smoke and gasoline instantly filled the air, reminding Jason of late nights spent at Roy’s apartment with the muted TV flashing brightly in the darkness, Kori spread out on the couch between them. It felt like such a long time ago, when it had been just the three of them against the world.

Now, he felt guilty for avoiding Roy and Kori these past few weeks. Truthfully, he’d been steering clear of everyone, lonely and angry at himself. For the way he… for everything that had happened.

A familiar ache started at the back of Jason’s throat, the kind that made him want to burn it out with cheap whiskey and menthol. He avoided Roy’s eyes and swallowed the rest of his drink down, his fingers curved tightly around the glass.

Roy noticed, his gaze lingering on Jason’s bruised knuckles, pink and raw looking under the soft glow of the holiday lights. It was everywhere, that heavy, nostalgic feeling of December, a cold moonlight seeping through gnarled tree branches.

When the pretty blonde bartender walked past, Roy ordered them each another round. Then he turned to Jason and shook a freckled finger in his face. “Don’t be such an asshole, yeah? Even the Grinch grew a heart on Christmas.”

Jason turned fully in his seat to glare at Roy, his fingers still pressing tight to the glass between his hands. “If you’re here to stop me from having a good time, you can fuck off.”

“You’re idea of a good time lately is being miserable and making things break loudly.”

“Exactly,” Jason smiled tightly. “So unless you’ve got a baseball bat tucked under your jacket and the code to W.E.’s parking garage full of nice, shiny new toys to smash, you better find someone else to annoy.”

“Oh, I’ve got something better than that.” Roy gave Jason a slow, considering look. “But are you on the naughty or nice list? Judging by your piss poor attitude, I think I can figure it out.”

Jason snorted as the bartender returned, placing two glasses of amber liquor in front of them. “Don’t you have your annual Day After Party to plan for instead of being Santa’s shitty helper?”

Roy ignored his own drink for rubbing his hands together in excitement. “A well-oiled machine by this point. Kori’s got everything all planned out, all I have to do is pick up the booze and pull together a playlist.”

“That’s what worries me. I’m still washing glitter out of everything I own from last year’s stupid Bath Bomb theme.”

Every year, Roy threw an anti-holiday rager the day after Christmas, each with its own theme more ridiculous than the last, all of which had nothing to do with the holiday season. He never revealed the theme until the morning of, so there was no time for anyone to prepare for the impending insanity. Chaos, Roy said, was part of the fun. Last year’s theme had inexplicably been “Bath Bomb” and had memorably featured glitter guns, water pistols, bubble machines and several plastic kiddie pools in various shades of pink.

“You didn’t look too upset at the time,” Roy reminded him.

Jason swallowed down more cheap whiskey. Too late, images from last year’s party flashed, unbidden, through his mind.

He remembered the way Tim had looked under the smoky lights of Roy’s apartment, suds stuck to his hair and gold glitter streaking his cheeks and forehead as music pulsed around them. He’d looked beautiful and a little silly, his lips curved in a wide, carefree smile as he wiped bubbles away from Jason’s temple. He could still remember the way Tim had felt pressed up against him in the middle of Roy’s living room, their jeans rolled up to their knees as they danced in one of the kiddie pools, splashing luke-warm, metallic purple water with every movement of their feet.

And then later, when they’d sat shoulder to shoulder in Roy’s bathtub with a bottle of barely-touched champagne between them, their knees touching, hooked over the edge with the cool tile pressing against their backs. Their clothing had been soaked and covered with glitter in every shade of color, but Jason remembered feeling only warmth when Tim reached over to touch Jason’s hand, twining their fingers together tightly.

He remembered the shape of Tim’s lips when he’d said, “Jason,” but it hadn’t sounded like his name at all.

It had sounded like the beginning of something.

“You’re coming Monday night, right?” Roy prompted, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Jason sighed. Not if there was a chance that Tim was going, not if Jason couldn’t…

“Come on,” Roy complained. “You’re never going to get over this thing if you don’t get back out there. Plenty of other candy-cane cocks to suck for Christmas.”

“I don’t,” Jason snapped at Roy’s crass words when he still had images of Tim, flush-faced and perfect, burning at the back of his eyelids. But then he saw the beginning of Roy’s sly grin, and grit his teeth to keep from disagreeing further. “Whatever.”

“You know, I was hoping you still felt that way,” Roy announced proudly, his fingers tapping rapidly against his own glass. He didn’t drink anymore, but it never stopped him from ordering something just to remind himself he could.

“Jesus Christ,” Jason groaned. “What the hell did you do, Harper?”

“Nothing you haven’t been asking for with all your miserable bullshit.” Roy’s eyes slid casually from Jason’s face and then to the back of the room, quietly assessing the group of rowdy drunks behind them. “You worry too much.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Jason warned again, his voice dropping lower, as a familiar tightness stirred in his gut.

“You mean ‘call up your ex-boyfriend on Christmas Eve’ kind of surprises?’” Roy asked innocently, his eyes still on the crowd. “Merry fucking Christmas, Jay.”

Jason had been mid-swallow when Roy dropped that particular bomb, making whiskey catch and burn down the back of his throat. Roy drew his gaze back, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Merry...what? You what?”

“Yeah, Jaybird, I called your favorite wet dream,” Roy confirmed. “Tim’s on his way here.”

“What the fuck?” Jason clenched his jaw around the words, and the scabs of his bruised knuckles stretched painfully as he squeezed the edge of the counter. “You’re joking, right?”

“You two need to talk,” Roy insisted, not the least bit phased by Jason’s anger. “This is my Christmas present to you. Even got him gift-wrapped and everything.”

Jason pushed away from the bar so quickly, he knocked his seat over with a sudden crash. “Are you insane?”

“God you need a blow job, cranky,” Roy grumbled, bending down to pick up Jason’s seat and ignoring the way the people around them had stopped to stare. “Sit back down, Jay.”

This wasn’t part of his plan, he’d just wanted to get drunk and forget everything. Not have to confront all the feelings he’d been trying so hard to bury. Jason felt his anger spike, hot and ugly in his veins. “You gonna make me?”

“No,” Roy replied. “But you’re never going to get Tim back if you keep running away like a scared little shit.”

“I didn’t ask you to come out here and play matchmaker,” Jason bit out, getting up in Roy’s face. “I was doing fine on my own.”

“Oh, so I should have just let you wallow all night while you drank half the bar? You don’t always have to do everything alone, you know.”

They stared at each other unblinking, their muscles tensed in anticipation. Roy’s lips were drawn into thin lines, but there was a fierceness in his eyes that told Jason he’d meant what he said.

And that he wasn’t leaving without getting his way.

With a long sigh, Jason looked away first, swallowing down a dozen hurtful words that he wouldn’t have been able to take back.

And because he knew Roy was right.

“So,” Jason said, only a little stiffly, as he sat back down with a long sigh. “How much time do I have?”

Roy’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he pulled his seat closer to Jason. He dug through his pockets for his phone, and Jason watched him flick through his recent text messages. “About ten minutes.”

Jason bent down until he could bump his forehead against the bar. “Just kill me. Put me out my misery.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Roy asked. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you didn’t like being dead very much.”

Jason frowned at Roy before stealing his friend’s untouched glass of whiskey. “What happens when he gets here?”

“That’s up to you, really.”

“Wait,” Jason said, pausing with the drink halfway to his lips. “You mean you don’t even have a plan?”

One corner of Roy’s mouth lifted. “The plan was to get him here. And since he’s already on his way, I’d say it’s going pretty well.”

“This is why Kori and I never let you make the plans,” Jason complained. “You suck.”

Roy swiveled in his barstool, knocking a knee against Jason’s thigh. “It’s called trying, Jay. You read all those fancy books, you should know a good action verb when you hear one.”

“Avoiding is a verb,” Jason argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sure,” Roy agreed. “A pathetic one.”

Roy did have a point. Problem solving had always been a fight or flight kind of thing for Jason, especially when it came to Tim — and he’d been on the run from his feelings for a long time.

“What did you tell him?” he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the grainy, wooden counter.

The music changed to something sad and whining, and Jason wanted to take back the words as soon as he’d said them.

“Not much,” Roy answered softly. “He thinks you need a ride home.”

Jason closed his eyes, as something hopeful and dreadful bloomed in his chest in equal measure. “On Christmas Eve? Doesn’t he have plans?”

“I didn’t have to twist his arm, if that’s what you mean.”

Jason glanced at the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall, red and blue and green lights reflecting off its surface. “Any chance of me sneaking out the bathroom window before he gets here?”

Roy shot him a toothy smile. “None at all.”

There were more things Jason wanted to say, but then Roy’s phone started to vibrate. Tim’s name flashed on the caller I.D.

“Your ride’s here.”

“I hate you.”

“Now that’s just the fear talking,” Roy said fondly, and then his lips drew together. He put a hand on Jason’s arm, squeezing tightly. “He’s lonely, you know? He won’t admit it and neither will you, because you’re both such stubborn fuckers.”

“B has the emotion range of a batarang, it was bound to rub off on us somehow.” Jason stood up and threw a few crumpled bills on the bar.

“Don’t be an idiot, okay?” Roy said. “I know you have this thing where you like to do the opposite of what anyone tells you. Try to resist this one time.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Jason said, walking backwards toward the exit. “See you at the Day After Party.”

“To quote Alfred quoting one of the greats, “Make it Work!’”

 

 

 

2.

A cold wind hit Jason’s face almost immediately as he left the bar, but he made no move to zip up the sides of his leather jacket. It had started to snow again, heavy flakes raining down onto dirty pavement.

Tim’s car was parked across the street, a sharp-looking BMW he liked to use when he was doing business for W.E. The hood glittered under the streetlamp, sleek and threatening and coated with a light dusting of white.

Knowing he didn’t have time for a smoke but wanting the menthol anyway, Jason pulled out his lighter and a cigarette. He’d wished he thought to bring his gloves, and then remembered how he’d ruined them out on patrol two nights ago.

The nicotine made everything a little less fuzzy. Even with all the whiskey, Jason wasn't drunk, but any nice buzz he'd been building had disappeared with the first mention of Tim's name. Instead, a frenetic energy had taken its place, a gut-wrenching pull between his heartbeats.

Two more drags between numb fingers, and Jason figured that he'd made Tim wait long enough — there was only so long he could put off the inevitable. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and pushed off the wall, his boots kicking up dirty slush as he crossed the street. For a moment, he thought about turning around, disappearing down a dark alley and finding some other bar in a different part of town. But something unbearable twisted in Jason’s chest at the thought of leaving now, of foolishly throwing away a chance to see Tim again.

As he approached, music was thrumming through Tim’s speakers, the menacing bass vibrating loudly enough for Jason to hear it. Now that he was closer, he could see that Tim wasn't alone; Dick sat in the passenger seat, and he waved at Jason as he passed the hood of the car.

When Jason pulled the backdoor open, sultry beats spilled out into the street, electric and heavy, quickly followed by the sound of three empty Red Bulls crashing to the ground. Jason bent down and threw the cans back into the car; one bounced off the edge of Tim’s laptop, which was spread open on the other side of the seat.

“Geez,” Jason said, slamming the door shut. The car was small enough that his knees hit the back of Dick’s seat. “Clean much?”

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said, his gloved fingers reaching to turn down the volume.

“Traitor,” Jason greeted, sure that he and Roy had been trading texts all night to make this happen.

The car moved forward as Tim smoothly shifted into gear, easing back into traffic. One leather-gloved hand rested steadily on the wheel, while the other gripped the shifter as expertly as his bo staff. Jason swallowed and looked away, feeling the hum of the engine vibrate enticingly under his thighs — there were fewer things he found more attractive than Tim confidently driving stick.

He’d been the one to teach him, afterall.

Dick twisted in his seat to raise an eyebrow at Jason. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tux, and Jason felt his eyes wander back over to Tim. He was not disappointed; under the deep black wool of his coat, Tim was dressed in equally fine evening attire.

Gift wrapped. Fucking Roy.

Jason cleared his throat, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the sudden smell of Tim’s cologne. It was the scent that would always linger the longest on Jason’s sheets after he’d steal Tim away from a swanky black-tie something or other. “Busy night?”

“Charity event,” Dick answered, fiddling with Tim’s sound system. “We drew the short straws.”

Jason made a face. “I don't even own a tie anymore.”

“Take a left up here,” Dick said to Tim, before turning back to Jason. “I wouldn't repeat that in front of Alfred, but it's not like you visit or anything.”

“You know where I live.” Jason wondered if they could smell the whiskey on his breath or if his cigarette had been enough to mask it. “Speaking of, where are we going?”

Dick shot him a dazzling smile. “M’s in town.”

Jason whistled. “I bet he’ll like the tux.”

“He’ll like it better on the floor, I’m sure.”

Tim snorted. “You’ll probably get snowed in.” His voice was low and soft, but Jason couldn’t resist a shiver that ran through his body. This was the voice that haunted his dreams, that told him he was good enough, that made promises in the darkness of his mind.

“The weather channel is saying we’re getting more than six inches,” Tim continued, his face angled away from Jason. He could just make out the pale skin at the back of Tim’s neck, where his hair had started to curl in rebellion.

“Oh, Dick’s definitely getting more than six inches,” Jason quipped, licking his lips and hoping Tim couldn’t hear the way his voice wavered. “At least nine, I’d say.”

“At least,” Dick agreed with a laugh, bracing himself against Tim’s dashboard when Jason kicked his seat for good measure. “Make another right up here.”

Just as Tim switched lanes, his laptop made a high-pitched beeping sound. Jason pulled it toward him, saw the screen light up red with the words MATCH blinking over some low-life criminal’s mugshot.

“Multitasking?”

“Some of us have cases to work,” Tim said. “Maybe you’d know a little more if you still did your rounds.”

Jason’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t that he’d stopped being Red Hood or going on patrol — in fact, he’d nearly doubled his hours to distract himself from thinking too much — but he’d made a concentrated effort to avoid his old haunting grounds. Which meant that Tim had gone back to the places they’d used to patrol together. The places they’d been together. For what? Waiting for him?

Roy’s voice floated up from the back of his mind. He’s lonely.

“We could really use your help,” Dick agreed, his face tilted toward Tim, watching. “It’d be nice to have you on the team again.”

“The… team?”

“Yeah,” Dick rambled. “I mean, what else would you call it? The squad? The posse? The Bat Bros? Oh, what about The Robin Ring? That’s kind of cool.”

“Oh,” Jason said, his throat tight again with feeling. He’d never realized… he’d hoped, for a long time, but he never thought that they’d all want him around like that.

Tim caught his eye in the rearview mirror, his gaze familiar and dark in the low-lit car, reading something in his face that Jason didn’t want him to, but unable to control his hopeful surprise. But when Jason blinked from the brightness of a passing car, Tim had already shifted his attention back to the road.

It’s just five more blocks down,” Dick said after a brief lull in conversation. “First snow of the season on Christmas Eve. Can you believe it?”

Jason leaned his forehead against the cold glass of his window. “You’re such a romantic,” he teased. “You’re the one that’s going to have the only kind of white Christmas that really matters.”

Dick hummed in agreement. “I just have to jingle M’s bells — ”

Tim took his hand off the gear shift to punch Dick lightly in the shoulder. “Please don’t finish that sentence. It’s my one Christmas wish.”

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Dick taunted, a sly edge to his voice.

“What’s that?” Tim interrupted, his fingers tightening around the wheel. “You want to get out here and walk the rest of the way?”

Dick laughed, his face illuminated by his phone screen as he typed out a message. “When did you get so vicious?”

“I hang out with Damian all day,” Tim said wearily. “A certain level of viciousness is a prerequisite for keeping all your limbs intact.”

“That or keep small, fuzzy kittens in your pocket,” Jason agreed, surprising himself at how easily it fell from his lips. “Baby animals get special treatment.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim said softly, eyes briefly flickering back to Jason’s again in the rearview mirror.

That same feeling from earlier gripped Jason, tight and hopeful and terrible. He concentrated on the coolness of the window against his skin, closing his eyes and letting passing headlights paint the backs of his eyelids with sharp bursts of color. With Tim and Dick talking quietly in the front, he could almost forget for a moment, pretend that nothing had changed.

A few blocks later, the car slowed as Tim eased into a free spot in front of M’s apartment. It looked nicer than what Jason had thought it would, though he didn’t quite know what he expected. He didn’t know M all that well, and he hadn’t been around enough to ask Dick much about his new relationship.

“Well,” Dick said, turning to face Jason and Tim. “See you both tomorrow, I hope.”

Tim shot Dick an annoyed look. Jason sunk lower in his seat and pretended he didn’t know what Dick meant by that.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Before Jason even knew what was happening, Dick had pulled his door open, tugging him out by the arm until they were both standing in the cold, several feet from the car. A chill wind whipped Jason’s unzipped jacket around his waist, and he crossed his arms over his chest for warmth.

“Jesus,” Jason complained. “You’re not very subtle for a spy.”

“It’s too late for subtle,” Dick answered, pulling Jason by the arm so they were even further from the car. There was no way Tim could hear them anymore. “Roy talked to you, right?”

Jason shoved Dick’s hand away. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too.”

“We’re just trying to help,” Dick said softly. “It’s been a bad few months.”

Jason shoved Dick again, making him slip slightly in the snow. Of course it had been a bad few months. But Roy and Dick, they just didn’t get it. They couldn’t understand. The unfairness of it burned in Jason’s gut. “And how would you know, exactly?”

Dick sighed, brushing his hair away from his face in frustration. “I can’t believe Roy was right about you.”

Jason curled his lip. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dick repeated, turning away slightly to stare up at M’s apartment. “You’re scared.”

Jason blinked. There was that word again. Scared. “You don’t know anything, man.”

Dick’s breath puffed out in white clouds. “Yes, I do. I was there, I saw what happened. I know how difficult it must have been for you, I can’t even imagine — ”

“Stop,” Jason held up a hand between them, his movements jerky. Dick pulled back, closing his mouth tightly. “Just stop, okay?”

Even in the darkness, Jason could see Dick struggle. He knew that Dick had more he wanted to say, but he couldn’t go back to that night, couldn’t think about that again. It was bad enough that he had to sit there in the backseat of Tim’s car and act like nothing was wrong.

“Jason,” Dick sighed. “You can’t keep running away. Pretending that it never happened isn’t going to help either of you.”

“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” Jason pleaded, shoving his freezing hands in his pockets. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Dick insisted. “But if you would just — ”

“Dick,” Jason said firmly. “I can’t. Okay?”

Dick crossed his arms over his chest in frustration but went silent. He studied Jason with knowing eyes and then shrugged in defeat, turning his face up to the sky to watch snowflakes swirl around them beneath the streetlight.

Without really knowing why, Jason bent down to scoop up a pile of snow, pressing the cold sphere between the palms of his bare hands. It was so cold that it almost burnt his skin, but his feelings of discomfort were worth it when the snowball burst on the side of Dick’s shoulder in a satisfying spray of snow and ice.

“Jason!” Dick yelled in surprise as snow dust fell into the open neck of his coat. He stood in shock for only a moment before he was bending down to make his own snowball in retaliation.

Within seconds, they were both smiling as they pummeled each other with badly formed snowballs, and Jason felt something warm and light bloom in his chest that could not be dampened by the cold.

“Merry Christmas!” Jason shouted, throwing snow at Dick as he retreated to the safety of Tim’s car. A snowball hit the passenger window just as Jason slid back inside.

Dick was grinning and shaking his head as he made his way up M’s stoop to ring the buzzer. He turned back to wave at Tim and Jason one last time before slipping through a set of double green doors and disappearing from view.

“Really?” Tim asked, lowering the music with glove-covered fingers. “A snowball fight?”

But when Jason turned in his seat to glare at Tim, one corner of his mouth was twisted in a crooked grin.

Jason breathed in sharply, turning away to stare out the window again. He still felt high on the adrenaline of a good fight, and the car felt oppressive and too warm. Jason was acutely aware of how little space separated his hands from Tim, a prickle of unease and want and danger biting at the back of his neck all at once.

As Tim pulled away from the curb, sticky white flakes had already coated half the windshield. It made everything feel more intimate, the clawing, heavy weight of winter clinging to the heat of their breaths, making Jason feel at once alone and completely attuned to Tim sitting next to him. How many nights had they spent pressed together in the back of Tim’s car, fingers seeking bare skin despite the cold? How many cryptic messages had Tim scrawled across the icy window of Jason’s beat up Civic parked outside his apartment?

“Still in Park Adams?” The suddenness of Tim’s voice made the hair on the back of Jason’s arms rise.

Jason trusted himself to respond only with a quick, quiet yes.

They drove in silence through the dark streets of Gotham, slowly making their way downtown to the set of ancient apartments that lined the river. The roads were less plowed in this section of town, and Jason felt the car hum with power as Tim shifted to a lower gear.

Jason bent forward in his seat and held up his frozen hands to the heat vents. From this angle, he could tilt his head slightly and watch Tim from the corner of his eyes without drawing attention to himself. He knew, knew, it was bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking.

The lit up dashboard threw Tim’s face in sharp relief, coating his skin a warm shade of blue that reminded Jason of an aquarium. Tim’s untied bowtie hung in silky black strands down his neck, framing his long throat and the sharp bumps of his collarbones. Jason had the urge to press his mouth there, against the warm, pale skin he remembered so well.

He wanted to kiss Tim until he was pink and breathless, wanted Tim in his lap and his hands tangled in Jason’s hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. He wanted Tim’s smile against his skin and their hips pressed together like they’d had so many times before. He wanted it so badly it was an ache in his chest, a sharp pain that never dulled no matter how many times he told himself it had to be this way.

He wanted to taste the champagne Tim must have sipped at the charity event, wanted to feel Tim’s happiness bubble against his lips like the first time they’d kissed in Roy’s bathtub. When they were both breathless and hard, soaking wet and covered in glitter, but happy.

The way Tim had looked when he’d pulled away, his mouth beestung and pretty. Tim had touched his fingertips to his lips, like he couldn’t believe they’d finally kissed. And he’d just looked and looked and looked at Jason, and said his name, said it like it hurt him and it healed him all in one breath, said —

“Jason.”

Tim looked at Jason curiously over the gear shift.

Jason blinked. “What?“

“I said,” Tim repeated, licking his lips, his eyes darting away from where they had lingered as warm as sunlight on Jason’s face, back to the road as a car sped past. “What happened to your hands?”

Jason pulled his bruised fingers away from the heater, curling them into the sleeves of his jacket. His body burned, and he could almost feel the phantom press of Tim’s mouth against his fingers, against his knuckles.

He ached for it, again.

“It’s nothing.”

Tim shifted in his seat, his fingers tight around the wheel. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

Jason tried to read Tim’s face in the ocean-blue light of the car; the line of his mouth looked almost regretful.

“What did Dick mean earlier?” Jason asked, changing the subject. He could drown in the pull of Tim, if he wasn’t careful. It was why he’d tried so hard to stay away.

“Hmm?” Tim asked, shifting gears as he veered off the expressway. He slowed as they followed a plow down a winding road for several feet.

“What was your Christmas wish?”

Tim swallowed, and Jason stared as his throat worked, at the delicate bob of his Adam’s apple beneath soft skin. When he answered, his voice was much quieter. “That you’d spend the day with us. Your family.”

Jason didn’t have an answer for that.

“I know you hate Christmas,” Tim continued. “But would it really be that terrible?”

Jason thought of the Manor, how it was full of bright white Christmas lights and green garland. He could picture the tree in the great living room, just off the foyer, decked out in gold and silver with just a hint of red. When he closed his eyes, he could even smell that bonfire scent of a newly lit fire that permeated the Manor most Christmas mornings, paired with the lingering scent of recently sauteed onions and melted butter.

“No,” Jason admitted in a rough voice, as if it cost him to admit it aloud. “It wouldn’t.”

Tim inhaled sharply, his fingers stilling on the gear shift between them. He left Jason’s words float in the silent car before responding.

“You’ll come then?” he asked, surprised, and Jason hated how hopeful he sounded.

Jason turned to stare out the window. “I’ll think about it.”

“I know Damian would like to see you,” Tim said. “He’d never admit it, obviously, but he misses you.”

They were nearing Jason’s apartment complex now. He could see the still, black river stretching out for miles beyond the lonely docks. It glistened in the darkness, silent and still, not yet frozen over for the winter. It gave Jason comfort, knowing that nothing, not even the cold, could slow the rhythmic ebb and flow of dark waves lapping against the crumbling shoreline.

Jason turned to look at Tim. “Just Damian?”

The car slowed as Tim pulled to the front of Jason’s apartment. The streets hadn’t been plowed this far from central Gotham, and everything looked untouched and pure covered in white.

“No,” Tim said, his eyes on the snow-covered street. “Not just Damian.”

He could mean Alfred. And Dick. And Bruce, even. But the measured, careful tone of his voice gave him away.

“Jason.”

When he met Tim’s stare, his eyes were so, so blue. “If you wanted to see me, you could have called.”

“And if I wanted something else?” Jason asked, his voice low and rough. He let his eyes drift down to Tim’s body, to wear the tight material of his dress pants clung to his thighs.

“Be serious.”

“It was a serious question, Tim.”

Tim stared at Jason’s mouth for a long time before he turned away with a sigh. “Are we going to talk now?”

Jason hesitated. He wanted to climb over the consul and press Tim against the leather seat, make him gasp and tremble beneath his hands. He didn’t want to talk.

It was Jason’s turn to look away.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t understand.” They’d had this argument before, many times.

“You think I don’t know you?” Tim shook his head, his voice growing heated. “I do.”

A shrill, long note filled up Jason’s ears. It haunted him, all the time. It woke him up most nights, covered in sweat. Everything was so fucked up, because of Jason.

“No.” Jason turned his narrowed gaze on Tim, anger flashing hot in his veins. “You really don’t.”

Tim flinched back as if Jason had landed a physical blow.

Jason rubbed his face. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Tim’s computer beeped from the backseat, another match lighting up his screen. Tim turned his head, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he studied the results. “That’s unexpected.”

Jason watched Tim slide into full detective mode, his body tense and his fingers already flying over the keys of his phone. He couldn’t even be mad; Tim was all sleek confidence and tightly coiled control, his mind a thousand miles ahead of whatever criminal made the mistake of crossing his path. He missed it, being part of Tim’s life in that way.

Jason had already made up his mind that he was going to leave. His hand was on the car door, his fingers pulling at the handle when Tim grabbed his arm, pulling his attention back.

“Just think about it, okay? Promise me, you’ll think about it?” Tim looked so determined, so capable.

In that moment, Jason hated everything that had kept them apart. But mostly, he hated himself.

“Okay.”

He knew they weren't only talking about dinner at Wayne Manor.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and rewrote and deleted and wrote some more - to summarize, this first part fought me every step of the way. Posting now instead of all at once for some warm encouragement. If you liked it, please let me know : )


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